Dragon Rider

by Kay Berrisford

  It was his wedding day—and here he was, drinking love and life-giving magic from the only man he'd ever need.

  When they surfaced for air, Lyle couldn't judge if Ben was gasping or laughing. It turned out to be a bit of both. They held each other, balanced against the balustrade, quaking with the energy of their passion, and the magic that'd passed between them.

  "Damn it, Ben," said Lyle, so close he breathed solely of Ben's hot panting breaths. "I want my fins back just to get them under that ruddy gorgeous suit of yours. I want you… now… so much!"

  "How do you think I feel?" said Ben. "You're wearing a ruddy catsuit! It's going to be agony getting through the ceremony. I'm going to be like a teenager with a permanent hard-on." He gave Lyle's arse a playful squeeze, and then his expression turned more serious. "Baby, there's another reason I wanted to see you alone. I've received a text. From Cully."

  Lyle hissed. They'd heard nothing from Cully since he'd banished her from his life. "What did she say?"

  "She congratulated us on our wedding day and sent us her best wishes. She also says she's sorry. She's really, really sorry, and would like an opportunity to make things up to you." Ben paused, his frown deepening. "We never revoked her invitation to the wedding, although I doubt she'll show, after… well, you know."

  Lyle gazed out across the ocean, which was alive with dancing white horses, and toward the Isle of Wight. He'd thought about his sister more often than he liked these past weeks, but time had dissipated his anger with her. A texted apology was hardly true reparation, yet Cully was still, without a doubt, the best sibling he'd got… and yes, he understood she cared, in her own weird way.

  "Do you want me to reply?" asked Ben softly.

  Lyle squirmed, torn. Apology or not, inviting Cully into his life would be to invite trouble. To admit he still desired ties with his old world and his old life—his old family, and all the heartache, darkness and temptation that entailed.

  Ben traced the tensed muscles of Lyle's midriff with his fingertips, interrupting Lyle's troubled thoughts and making him shiver pleasantly. "You do know you're the reason Cully's so scared of relationships," said Ben. "It's not your fault, of course, but when she believed you were dead, it hurt her so much she locked her heart away from all family and lovers. I think that… explains a lot."

  Lyle hooded his eyes, shutting out Ben's sincere, entreating gaze. Deep down, he wondered if he'd understood this truth about Cully for some time—whether he'd learned it when she'd swept him away to conjure Newkie Brown and cookies and looked after him when he'd struggled on their voyage. Either way, his mind was made up. As Ben kept telling him, their two worlds had collided whether they liked it or not. It was time to accept this and let his sister back in.

  "Inform her she can congratulate us in person, if she likes," said Lyle. "It's over to her, then."

  Ben's delighted hug nearly smothered the leap of apprehension in Lyle's gut.

  "Of course, you'll be encouraging a dragon to come to our wedding," he murmured into Ben's ear, amused when Ben jolted at the reminder.

  "No going back now," teased Lyle. "Text her!"

  *~*~*

  "If anyone knows any reason these two persons should not be joined in matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace."

  The registrar's words resounded through the crowded chamber, when the double doors at the far end swung wide. Lyle, nerves twanging painfully, peeped over his shoulder, his hand stretching for Ben's.

  The family, gathered behind them in front of the roomful of guests, looked anxiously around too. A statuesque figure stepped into the chamber. Clad in curve-hugging black, her hat sported a rim so broad it rivalled the rings of Saturn.

  "Sorry," said Cully, flipping a gloved hand apologetically. "Got a bit held up, I'm afraid. But no objections here, so please carry on."

  Ben squeezed Lyle's fingers, and Lyle heaved a sigh of profound relief. He'd told himself he didn't care if Cully didn't attend, yet couldn't kid himself. She hurried up the aisle and slid in beside the delighted Raven and Lucy, wearing their matching mermaid costumes. Then Lyle turned his focus back solely to his groom, the love of his long life.

  Lyle relished every word of the ceremony, each glance and adoring touch from Ben, to whom Lyle now devoted every iota of his attention. While he didn't wish to rush things, he knew the moment he yearned for most fast approached.

  "You may now both kiss your lawfully wedded husband," said the registrar.

  Lyle jumped on Ben, who staggered under the slam of Lyle's weight, nearly toppling. Lyle discerned Cully's happy shriek, and Alison's cry of amused shock, and he eased his tongue deep into Ben's mouth.

  As their lips and bodies clashed, Lyle was faintly aware of the bright crack of lightning, then of the strong smell of burning accompanied by gasps and shouts. His senses were too overloaded to care about such insignificant matters. The world stopped turning, time fell away. Lyle's universe was reduced to Ben's passionate kiss, and to their devouring and worshipping of one another.

  Lyle was married to Ben.

  At bloody last!

  The fire alarm wailed in their ears.

  *~*~*

  "I can't believe Dad's going to get a discount on the venue hire because of a fire we started," said Ben later, as he and Lyle posed for their official photographer on the veranda. "I feel kind of guilty, but it's not like we can tell them the truth."

  Lyle sniggered. The fire had been minor, with one of Marjorie's flower displays the sole casualty. The castle manager believed it'd been caused by a faulty chandelier. Derek hadn't seen the need to argue. The truth, however, intrigued Lyle.

  While Ben's kisses had been magical of late, a ruddy great lightning bolt raised things onto a whole new level. Lyle liked the idea that it had something to do with their marriage, perhaps a sign that the curse that'd landlocked him was consigned even further into history. Having finally come to terms with the inextricable entwinement of their worlds, he also fancied Ben's new powers, blending with the remnants of his, had plenty to do with it.

  Lyle pressed his cheek to Ben's, striking a fresh pose as Marjorie, Daphne, and several other guests joined the photographer to take more snaps. "My dashing Dragon Rider," he purred, enjoying the flush of heat that spread up Ben's face before smothering Ben with kisses.

  "Don't say that." Mumbling beneath his fixed smile, Ben pried Lyle off. "All that matters is that I can provide you with the magic you need. Let's thank heaven for that and not delve any deeper, eh?"

  Lyle conceded these were wise words, even as Cully strode up, half-empty pint glass in hand, and whispered something in the photographer's ear. The photographer seemed a little confused, but after another hushed exchange, she handed Cully her top-of-the-range camera.

  "I'm going to take a photograph," announced Cully, switching the memory card in the camera for one of her own. "Grooms' families only—both sides—down on the beach."

  "Both sides of the family?" queried Ben, and Lyle's heart lurched ominously. Surely Cully was the only member of Lyle's side here. The only one he wanted here, and he certainly still had reservations about her, unless…

  A lump clogged Lyle's throat. Welwyn was dead. Emmet was dead. In the aftermath of Cully's firestorm, their mother was most likely dead too. All who remained were Cully, and those sweet remnants of the tribe who'd welcomed him back so warmly. He really wouldn't mind Miria, Bella and the others being here today, but surely, they couldn't have made it, unless…

  Cully snuck up beside him and hooked her arm through his.

  "Bella is dying to see your outfit," she said. "They're all waiting under the shelter of the cliff. Fetching them here made me a bit late, but I hope you don't mind?"

  Awaiting his answer, she appeared suddenly nervous. Lyle shook his head, thunderstruck.

  "I really am sorry, Lyle, about everything." Cully's voice quietened, rich with regret. "I understand now how badly I played things, but honestly, when Ben replied this morning, I was so grat
eful I cried. Do you think we can… you know, start over with the whole brother and sister thing? I'm changing, honestly I am. I can't even sleep at night without waking up worrying about bloody Bella and the others, let alone… you."

  Lyle sucked in a swift breath, fighting the briefest of temptations to rebuff her. "It's fine," he said, deliberately non-committal. "We invited you, didn't we? And I'm happy you've brought the others, although in future, please tell me what you're plotting before you just go do it. If you can learn to be a little more open with me… let's see how things go, eh?"

  "Thank you." Cully squeezed his arm a little tighter before turning to Ben, who'd not left Lyle's side for an instant. "I'll shoot off and help your gran, Ben. She's a bit wary about those steps down to the beach but determined to make it so she can meet everyone."

  Cully sprinted off into the milieu of guests on the patio and muddy lawns, leaving Lyle slumping against Ben, as grateful as ever for Ben's reassuring presence.

  "Are you sure about this?" asked Ben, his voice a deep vibration against Lyle's hair.

  Lyle closed his eyes and found the answer came naturally and proved disarmingly simple. "Don't tell my sister just yet… but it's perfect, darling," he said. "Everything is perfect."

  Chapter Seventeen

  When Ben and Lyle stumbled into their honeymoon suite, midnight had long fled by. Ben threw himself flat on his back on the enormous bed, limbs splayed, and his tie hanging loose. A shoe slipped from his dangling left foot.

  "Phew! Your sister doesn't half know how to keep a party going," said Ben. "Does she ever need to rest… or get drunk? Seriously, she downed two crates of Newkie Brown and was still dancing like crazy. And I wish we hadn't bothered to pay for any fireworks. Hers were way better!"

  "She was glorious," conceded Lyle, rolling onto the bed besides Ben and into the crook of Ben's outstretched arm. "But the party's not over here either."

  Lyle kept rolling till he sprawled on top of Ben, his silken-clad loins hot against the prominent bulge in Ben's trousers. His fins—liberated since the company had whittled down to the trusted few—twitched toward Ben's shirt buttons, and his fingers threaded through Ben's mussed hair. "I'm going to need your help to get me out of my suit," said Lyle. "I got sewed into this damned thing, remember?"

  Ben lifted his head to proffer a wanton smirk, which almost belied his bleariness. "Love to, baby," he murmured. "But it might have to be a quickie. Sorry, but I'm shattered." He flopped back down and closed his eyes again.

  Lyle drew away, striving not to be disappointed. It wasn't like they couldn't make love tomorrow, and indeed, forever more. He'd always dreamed of a good ravishing on his wedding night, but Ben was already half asleep.

  Lyle propped himself on his elbows and examined the honeymoon suite. The stuccoed ceiling was as high as the chamber in which they'd been wed, and velvet hangings vied with grandiose mirrors for the space on the walls. A chandelier glittered… but not as brightly as the object he now spotted lying on a cushioned seat beneath one of the curtained windows.

  The golden sword.

  "Ben!" Lyle scrambled to sit on the edge of the bed, not daring to draw any closer. "Look!"

  Roused by Lyle's urgent tone, Ben was at his side in an instant. And then, as if the mere sight of the sword revived him, he stood bolt upright and took a bold step forward to loom over it.

  "How do you think it got here?" asked Lyle. He cringed to imagine anybody going back into the caves at Wheal Dogger after Clem and the others had met such an awful fate there.

  "Doesn't matter," said Ben. "It's here now, and it'll give me more power to gift you. Plus perk me up a little, I've no doubt."

  Ben moved his hand tentatively toward the sword, and terror seized Lyle. In a flash, his sweet Ben transformed into a splendid, yet stony faced warrior. The man peeping out from beneath a helmet's visor was Ben. But he was clad in armour that shone in a similar golden hue to the sword, toward which he stretched out a gauntlet.

  Shocked, Lyle drew his fingers across his face, and when he looked again, his normal, dishevelled Ben had returned. Ben grasped the sword's hilt and white fire crackled, forming an electric handguard around his clenched fist. He exhaled hard as a tremor passed through him, then turned toward Lyle.

  All the shadows of weariness had lifted away. The hungry gleam in his chestnut eyes terrified and thrilled Lyle in equal measures.

  "Feeling a little more awake?" asked Lyle, quirking a brow.

  "Hell, yes!" Ben rolled back his shoulders. "Ready to have your clothes ripped off?"

  Lyle nodded, though he wondered about Ben's brief transformation and if Ben had sensed anything odd. Lyle harboured a nasty feeling he couldn't dismiss it as the offspring of too much champagne. But he'd figure that out later. As Ben closed in, still brandishing the sword, Lyle's thoughts skittered to a breathless halt. He threw himself back onto the plush pillows, sinking into the soft halo of his hair and ready for anything Ben wished to do to him.

  Overall, Lyle was more relieved than disappointed when Ben tossed the sword aside before climbing on. He set to work on Lyle's clothing with teeth and hands, ripping at the seams, ruining Lyle's handiwork just the way Lyle had dreamed of. Simultaneously, Lyle's set his fins and fingers to work freeing all the hidden parts of Ben he'd been craving all day to touch.

  Once naked, they rutted together, flesh plundering smouldering flesh, bodies working like pistons. Their lovemaking unleashed currents of lava between them more intense than Lyle ever recalled. Ben filled Lyle with life, magic, and love till it saturated Lyle's body, his mind, till they were so closely joined, Ben became all that Lyle was, and Lyle all that Ben was.

  After a castle-quaking climax, they kissed till stars went supernova in front of Lyle's tightly scrunched eyes. Then they started all over again.

  Daylight seeped between the gaps in the drapes when finally, with his body wrapped tight around Ben's, Lyle's stamina ran dry. Ben, too, was breathing slower at last, and together they drifted toward sleep.

  *~*~*

  At first, all he knew was the agony—the searing ring of fire about his throat. It dominated Lyle's whole being, crushed his thoughts, and annihilated his will to move, to breathe, to fight even.

  But then the cool fingers on his brow skittered into his consciousness. His mother was with him. He understood Clem was speaking before his hurt-addled brain made sense of her cold words. He'd been here before… in dreams every night since this horrible event had actually occurred.

  It was a nightmare. Thank the Goddess Moon! It still felt too real for comfort.

  "The pain will end soon, Lyle," said Clem. "Even with the remnant of power that remains to you, you can still become strong. I can teach you how to become the monster you were born to be. It will be dark and foul, and there will be no going back, but I can give you what you want, Lyle, what you've always desired—your revenge."

  Temptation swept through Lyle's quivering frame, as it had swept through him every time he'd relived this horror.

  And then, for the very first time, that temptation died a sudden death. The pain around his throat faded and his heart felt light. What was the point of vengeance, when there was nobody left to hate?

  "I'm not a monster!" he heard himself shout.

  "You'd lusted for Welwyn's blood for years and you killed him. You tricked that silly fiancé of yours, even the Wise Mas, but you can't delude yourself. You wanted to best Welwyn, and you did. Soon you can best your sister too."

  Lyle refused her words. Ben hadn't married a monster, but a merman who adored his sister, vexing though Cully was, second only to his lovely husband. He still sensed Clem's cold scrutiny, grinding him down, insisting he give in like he'd surrendered before. Drawing on a sudden and unexpected surge of magic in his belly, he started to shake himself awake. If he wriggled hard enough, he could flee from this nightmare, and get back to Ben and the light…

  *~*~*

  Lyle awoke fully to a sudden, shocking downward motio
n, a crash, and then a startled cry.

  Thank heavens! As he'd thought, it'd just been another nightmare, another reliving of that horrible encounter with his mother, and yet…

  Lyle took in the scene before him. Ben was backed up against the bathroom door, his hair dripping from a shower and a plush towel wrapped around his waist. He clung to the doorframe with white knuckles, horror distorting his face as he gawked up at Lyle.

  Why's he staring upward? I'm lying on the bed… aren't I?

  Even before Lyle flicked his gaze to the mirror, he knew. He gazed, mesmerized, at the dragon that fixed him back with a blank stare he didn't recognize as his own. Its metallic scales glittered in a rainbow spectrum, its fangs were ivory sabres, and it wasn't so much lying on the bed as squashing the bed's broken remains. Its head nearly touched the stuccoed ceiling.

  When Lyle sent a message to lift a finger, the dragon flicked a curled talon, which snagged several threads of wool from the deep-shag carpet.

  Yes, it's me alright.

  Pain flashed, an agonizing spasm caused by his every muscle contracting, and the dragon disappeared. Lyle returned to his usual body, fins splayed across the mauled bedclothes.

  So for much a quiet first day of marriage…

  "Shit!" Ben hurried over to the ruined furniture. "Cully said the first time it happened to her, it just… well happened. Do you think it was… er, me? Could I have given you the power to cause this?"

  They had made love for four straight hours. "It's the only explanation, Ben."

  Ben raked his hair from his brow, frantic, and then grimaced at the broken bed. "What should we do?"

  Lyle flipped onto his side, catching sight of the golden sword strewn beside a snapped bedpost. As he recalled the vision he'd had of Ben in armour the previous night, dread trickled through him.

  Lyle might've cast aside his anger and hate, but their worlds had collided and their life was changing. More worryingly, he and Ben were changing, and magic altered both of them. That scared Lyle more than anything. Was that armour-clad warrior really his sweet Ben? He'd had Ben's face, but he'd felt severe and distant. And Lyle found it hard to regard that dragon with its faraway gaze as any part of himself.